High spring waters rush through narrow rocks in the Wallowa Mountains of Oregon.
Hurricane River is an apt name for this gushing stream of water, especially in the springtime when the snow melt fills the banks with cold, clear, rushing water. It is at this time that one sees, hears, and feels the force of nature, a force that is to be respected as much as to be marveled at.
Hurricane River, the artwork, invites the viewer to go on a hike through the Wallowa Mountains, a place of quiet and pristine beauty. The trails winds and wends its way up, up, and up – and upon reaching the river rushing through and over the path, the adventurer stops to rest and consider the options.
There is no bridge. Later in the year, when the waters are down, one can pick one’s way across the river by jumping from rock to rock, but now, as the waters splash and rumble and roar, it is not wise to challenge their strength with one’s boldness.
In this way, Hurricane River is a metaphor to life itself, because life is a journey that we walk everyday. Sometimes, that walk seems to lead up, up, and up, and then, we find ourselves stopped by what seems to be an insurmountable obstacle. So we stop, and consider our options.
We could work our way downstream, to a place where the landscape is not so steep and the waters not so powerfully rushing, and see if we can make it across there. Or we can do what life frequently demands that we do: wait, for a better time, for a time when the waters are not rushing so strongly, when the snow has melted and the stream has gone down to a size we can manage.
There are always options, and as long as we are not insistent upon doing things only one way, we will continue on in our journey and continue to discover new and beautiful places.
Featured in 30 Fine Art America groups.
March 29th, 2017
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